


What do you want for your birthday?

by UnabashedBird



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Sex, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:47:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnabashedBird/pseuds/UnabashedBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's 21st birthday falls in the middle of midterms, but Jessica's going to make sure he gets in some celebrating amidst all the studying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What do you want for your birthday?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [themegalosaurus'](themegalosaurus.tumblr.com) [Sam's birthday fic-fest](http://themegalosaurus.tumblr.com/birthday).
> 
> This is my first time writing anything that approaches smut, so hopefully it's OK, and hopefully you don't mind that it stops before things go, uh, full frontal.

“Sam, c’mon, you’re killing me here!” Brady wheedled.

“Well, excuse me for being born in the middle of midterms. I mean, so I can’t go out on my 21st birthday. What’s the big deal? It’s not like I’ve never had a drink before."

“Yeah, but you’ve never had a _legal_ drink."

“So, what, the hangover and subsequent midterm failure is more fun because it was legal?"

“Man, that is so not the point, and you know it. The point is to come out and get completely plastered with your friends! It’s a rite of passage! A coming of age! Little Sammy, all grown up!” Brady threw up his arms and spun around as he talked, throwing the nickname out as if it was nothing.

Sam glared.

When Brady finally noticed, he said, “What? Oh, right, my bad. Forgot how touchy you can be about that. But seriously, Sam, Sunday, come hell or high water, even if Luis and I have to—"

“Have to what, Brady?” Jessica asked, joining them as they walked across campus. “We still on for Sunday?” she asked Sam when Brady, looking sullen, didn’t answer.

“Dude, why didn’t you just say you had a date? That’s like, the only acceptable excuse for not getting shit-faced with the gang."

“It’s not a date, it’s a study party,” Sam informed his friend.

Brady groaned. “Jessica. You are not letting him spend his 21st birthday studying. That’s like, a mortal sin or something."

“One, no, it really isn’t you heathen. Two, I’m also baking him a cake and making sure he takes breaks throughout the day. Papers don’t write themselves, Brady, and some of us have scholarships to keep. And when you say ‘the gang,’ at least be honest and admit that what you really mean is ‘everyone with a fake ID and/or who doesn’t care about midterms,’” she finished icily.

“All right, all right, message received, no need to—"

“Brady,” Sam interrupted, “do not dig yourself any deeper."

Brady smirked, saluted, and veered off in another direction.

Jessica shot Sam a significant look.

He sighed. “I know, it’s just . . . "

Her face softened. “Yeah, I know.” She playfully linked her arm through his as they made their way to class. “But we are still on for Sunday, right? I mean, that was the deal: you get to do your intense hermit thing on Saturday, then I force you to act like a human and eat super delicious cake in between study sessions on Sunday, since midterms kinda precludes anything resembling a proper birthday party."

Sam smiled at her. “Yeah, we’re still on. You know, people will talk if they see us walking arm-in-arm like this."

Jessica raised her eyebrows. “Well, maybe I want them to."

Sam felt the blood rush to his cheeks, but she was smiling at him, and he found himself re-evaluating the date-like qualities of their Sunday plans in a much more hopeful light.

 

“Done!” Jessica crowed, dropping her thumb drive triumphantly onto the table. “All that’s left is printing it out once I get back to my room."

Sam looked up from his notes and smiled tiredly at her.

“Here, let me quiz you, and if you get at least 90%, I’m cutting you off,” she said, holding out her hand for his flashcards.

“OK, but I’m trusting you here,” he said, handing them over.

Sam got all the questions right, and Jessica declared the studying part of their party over.

“Should I call Brady and tell him you can go out after all?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

“God, no,” he said as emphatically as he could.

“You, uh, you want me to head out? Give you some space to recharge?” she asked, much more hesitantly.

Sam met her eyes across the table. “Not if you don’t want to go,” he told her earnestly. And then, maybe because it was his birthday and he was feeling lucky and maybe because he was so brain-dead that his filters were down, he reached out and laid his hand on top of hers.

Watching their hands instead of her face, he said, “So, and sorry if I’m totally off-base here, but lately I’ve been kinda getting the impression that you might be thinking about, uh, revisiting the possibility of us, maybe, y’know."

Jessica gripped Sam’s hand in hers as she stood up and walked around the table to stand right by his chair. He turned to look up at her. “Perceptive of you,” she said, and kissed him.

The kiss was soft and tender and non-invasive to begin with, but Sam reached up to cradle her face in his hands and deepened the kiss, and she responded in kind, opening her mouth to his tongue, clinging to his face and hair and half-falling into his lap, then turning so she could straddle him, pressing as much of herself against him as she could.

When they came up for air, they stared at each other, eyes shining, pupils dilated, and both grinned.

“So Sam,” Jessica said, leaning in and beginning to kiss her way along his jaw towards his ear, “what would you like,” she reached his ear and began to make her way down his neck, “for your birthday?"

Sam stifled a groan, and she paused. “Don’t stop,” he gasped. “Please don’t stop."

“Your wish is my command,” she purred.

She began to grind her hips against his as she trailed sucking kisses down his neck, and Sam moaned, rapidly getting hard. She came up to kiss him on the mouth again, but he stopped her when she started to duck down to his neck again, instead mimicking what she had just done and kissing his way down her neck. The lower he went down the neckline of her tank top, the more her breathing caught in little gasps and the more she pressed herself against him, and he reached up under her shirt, one hand on the soft skin of her back, the other tangled in her hair, and pulled her as close as he could.

“Sam, hey, stop for a second,” she gasped out, and he pulled back immediately and let her go. But she flashed him a wicked grin and removed her tank top and bra in rapid succession.

For a moment he could only stare while she watched him in anticipation, then he dove back in, kissing down and around each breast, running his tongue over her nipples until they stiffened, paying special attention to all the places that made her gasp and writhe and push hard against him until, able to bear it no longer, she reached out and began to tug at his shirt.

Sam immediately left off kissing her so he could pull his shirt over his head, and then Jessica was there, kissing from his jaw to his ear to his neck to his chest and back again, and there was so much of her skin against so much of his, and it was ecstasy and agony all at once.

“Jess,” he moaned. “Sorry, Jessica—"

“’s fine,” she murmured into his ear, then bit down on the lobe, and he cried out. “I like it,” she whispered huskily.

“Jess,” he growled, “I think we should take this elsewhere."

She immediately climbed off him and made for his bedroom, unbuttoning her jeans as she went. Sam blinked, momentarily disoriented, then jumped up to follow her.

 

Afterwards, as they lay in each other’s arms, sated and content, Sam decided it was as good a time as any to ask. “Jess,” he murmured in her ear, “are you . . . does this mean you want to be my girlfriend?"

She giggled and burrowed against his neck. “Yeah, Sam, it does. Does this mean you want to be my boyfriend?"

“Only ever since I met you."

She put her hand on his face and kissed him soft and sweet. “Glad that’s settled, then."

He sighed, certain that this was the happiest he’d ever been. “This is the best birthday ever,” he told her.

“Good to know where the bar is, so I can start planning how to raise it next year,” she said, her words full of promise.

Sam’s answering kiss was neither soft nor sweet, and Jess rolled him over and responded in kind.


End file.
